Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2020
He
paints my wings black,
in forbidden pleasures.

When his horns run along,
my fantasies are made real.

Piercing my skin,
he penetrates purity.
Inside of me melts down,
my body ignites,
cremated and relieved,
to the death of an angel.
Renée Brookes
Written by
Renée Brookes  25/F/Washington, US
(25/F/Washington, US)   
529
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems